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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859295">you’re n̶o̶t̶ alone within these walls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(pls laugh), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Dreamon AU but I make it less scary and more introspective bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending, Fixing past relationships, Gen, Humor, Kinda, Rated T for swearing, Redemption, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Sick Character, a bit of blood, both pre and post dreamon era, no beta we die like men, tags will be updated as I go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:20:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,808</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Dream's stuck in prison with a white blob only he can talk to and he's perfectly fine with staying here forever.  (̶N̶o̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶)̶</p><p>Oh. And people visit him sometimes, which is weird, since they're supposed to hate his guts, but he doesn't really have a say in that anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) &amp; Everyone, Everyone &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. warden</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>im posting this at 3 am on a school night so im sorrrryy if some stuff's not making sense i promise things will be explained later aha o(-(</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is complete horseshit.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ridiculously stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh huh.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not even <em>listening!”</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    
  </strong>
</p><p>“Sure, whatever you say- <em>mph!” </em>Dream sputters as something lands on his mouth. “Get <em>off</em> of my face you little-!<em>”</em></p><p> </p><p>Once the body of a white blob is grabbed by a large hand, a high-pitched, enraged voice echoes all over Dream’s head. The young man goes back to reading his book, indifferent save for a subtle wrinkle of a nose.</p><p> </p><p>It takes an awful lot of time before the curses and complaints settle down, luckily he’s had plenty of experience dealing with unending bickering without getting overwhelmingly aggravated, so it wasn’t any problem on his end.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually the thing between his fingers stops struggling so much, limp like a strange, squishy stress ball. Dream has half a mind to use it as such, yet avoids giving into the urge to do so. Instead, he rolls his eyes when it starts whining incoherently, closes his book, and sits back against the frame of his bed.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re worse than Sapnap and George when they’re fighting.” Dream deadpans, shifting against the tough mattress underneath, he wishes they gave him something more comfortable, but who’d worry about letting a prisoner be comfortable? If it weren’t for the fact it was required so that he’d set his spawn point here, he probably wouldn’t even be allowed to have one in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m leagues better than those idiots combined and we both know it.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream remembers the first time he’s heard this… whatever it’s supposed to be, speak. It was strange, sounding like it came from nowhere and everywhere, almost like it only spoke at him telepathically. He used to get paranoid and jumpy whenever it happened, key word used to. Now that it’s been months, as he stares down at this pathetic excuse of a ‘tyrant’ in his hands, he can’t help the poorly hidden snort from his nose.</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em> are you laughing at.”</p><p> </p><p>To hear such vexed words from something that looked like some kid’s toy plushy, and with someone like Dream who’s always had a very low bar for humor, it was absolutely, genuinely, <em>hilarious.</em></p><p> </p><p>“You’re awful.” The blob says, frustration clear in their tone yet lost on the blank, harmless smile plastered on its round face. A horribly long wheeze escapes Dream’s lungs at the sight, and the blob grunts. “Really wish dying of laughter was a thing, you useless piece of trash.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream guffaws another round, but relents and wipes off a few tears from his eyes when he responds. “Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, all things considered.” He gestures at the wall around them, then to the red, scratchy blanket under his butt. “Besides, s’not like it’d make any difference if I’d just respawn here again anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>“A world without you, even for a second, would frankly be a better one.” The blob counters. “<em>And- </em>you can still literally break the bed! There’s a chance that you’d-”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh <em>face it</em> you annoying little pest.” A strangled squeak meets the harsh squeeze of Dream against the white blob, his tone is sharp, scathing, lacking the previous light-heartedness it held earlier. “<em>We</em> made the blueprints of this prison, there’s no getting out of here once your locked in! Your stupid dumb tricks are over, I’m done with it and so is <em>everyone.</em> The shtick is up and there’s nothing you can do about it!”</p><p> </p><p>The blob is still in his hand, the smile on its face stiff and unmoving, Dream loosens his hold, scowling and teeth baring for another growl before-</p><p> </p><p>“Dream? I brought you lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam’s voice echoes from the side of the room, a little compartment, still encased in thick layers of obsidian, where Dream could interact with people outside his little chamber of a prison.</p><p> </p><p>The green-clad man stares at the said compartment for a moment, Sam not visible due to the angle the bed has, before he breathes a sigh and looks at his hand.</p><p> </p><p>What was once an angry, fist sized blob was now a shiny and spotless porcelain mask; he wastes no time in putting it on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream?” Sam calls again, only slightly hesitant. “Are you asleep or- JESUS!”</p><p> </p><p>A yelp bounces around the air and black walls as Dream appeared by the creeper hybrid’s line of vision, the sound accompanied by a low lying hiss that the masked man was only slightly worried about.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re terrifying.” Sam says, hand over his chest in undisguised fright. “Seriously, how the hell do you manage to slink around like that when you’re arguably the brightest thing in this goddamned prison?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream tips his head, hands settled comfortably inside the pockets of his hoodie. “It’d be brighter if my clothes were actually clean.”</p><p> </p><p>“If that’s your way of asking me to sneak you out- which is the <em>worst</em> one you’ve had yet, if I may add- then that’d be a no.” Sam’s enchanted netherite armor glistens (which he still heartily believes is a little overkill, considering the younger has nothing useful in his inventory at all), something Dream ignores in favor of passive shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>Sam presses a button and pulls a few levers, eyes never leaving Dream as he carefully sets up whatever mechanism there was to hand over the food. It’s a tediously complicated process that only he could have the patience to work on, and Dream would be snorting with fondness if he weren’t literally being treated like a criminal mastermind who’d be gone in a flick of a wrist if left unattended for even a millisecond.</p><p> </p><p><em>It's been a month.</em> He thinks idly, glancing at the clock visible from behind Sam. <em>It’s been a month of nothing but this, I eat, sleep, occasionally get a book out of pity, then it’s a repeat process.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Your foods gonna get cold.” Sam’s monotone call shakes Dream out of his stupor, and he glances at the plate of baked potatoes and a few pork chops on a tactfully crafted obsidian table (seriously how did he even <em>cut</em> that?) in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>Dream drags the wooden chair from the other side of the table and sits down boredly, he’s about to lift his mask up to eat when he realizes he hasn’t heard the creaks and bumps that usually announced Sam leaving him to eat by his lonesome.</p><p> </p><p>Sam catches him staring when he looks up and taps his foot on the floor. “Checking the redstone to make sure you haven’t tapered with it or anything, figured I’d do it while you’re distracted with eating.”</p><p> </p><p>A pause hangs silent in the air before Dream rolls his eyes even though the hybrid couldn’t see it. “I don’t know if I should feel complimented when you think there’s a way I could’ve done that or be insulted that you’re comfortable enough to tell me that you’re distracting me-” He stops abruptly before shaking his head sullenly. “Actually those two thoughts nullify each other out, just say you think that lowly of me or say nothing at all, Awesam.”</p><p> </p><p>“With an ego as big as yours, I’m sure you can take it.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a sudden, half-smothered wheeze that startles Sam and makes him jump slightly. His head snaps to where Dream sat, ready to enter the chamber if the younger was choking on his food –prisoner be damned–  but what meets his sight instead of a man in pain is Dream covering his face under the mask with his shaky hands, muffled laughter and giggles leaving his lips.</p><p> </p><p>Sam’s tense shoulders loosen at the sight, almost baffled if it weren’t for how the infectious wheezing was a familiar and vaguely nostalgic sound, all the way back from when the server only consisted of eight members, himself being one of them.</p><p> </p><p>“That wasn’t even meant to be a joke.” Sam murmurs, only slightly exasperated, and maybe there’s a slight smile on his face too. “Your humor is as weird as ever.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh you have <em>no</em> idea.” Dream replies, voice still muffled as he sat out the rest of his amusement. “Turns out being stuck here fucks up your brain in more ways than one.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s Sam’s turn to tip his head at him. “You-”</p><p> </p><p>Dream clears his throat and waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah,” he says almost wearily, voice straining as if to seem annoyed now. “It’s my fault and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t blow up literally everything and manipulated everyone into doing whatever I wanted and making it seem like I was doing it for their own good. Dream’s the bad guy blah blah blah.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam makes a sour face. “I was going to say that I could bring you something other than a book to pass the time if you were that bored, but if that’s the case then be my guest edge lord.”</p><p> </p><p>The creeper hybrid expects the man to retort with an equally childish term, maybe a swear or two jabbed in there for the extra spice, but it never comes. When Sam takes a peek, Dream’s just picking at his food with a fork, posture incredibly lax as he repeatedly shoves baked potatoes to one side of the plate and pork chops on the other; the silence was overwhelmingly deafening.</p><p> </p><p>And, <em>ender,</em> it’s been weeks since Sam has seen this guy have an ounce of passion, this guy who’s supposed to be the big bad of the server, supposed to be the cause of all their problems, supposed to be the epitome of <em>chaos</em> and <em>destruction</em>, yet with every day that passes, all Sam could see in him is some guy who’s been locked into a room and has no heart or drive to even try and <em>leave</em>.</p><p> </p><p>It’s like all that fight he’d expressed when defied never existed to begin with, and Sam doesn’t know what to feel about the fact that his <em>former</em> friend seems to be drifting away with each sun that rises, seems to be turning into an empty husk of his former self if he weren’t already, seems to be aware that it’s happening to him and even <em>welcomes </em>it.</p><p> </p><p>Sam’s doesn’t know why he’s disappointed over <em>that</em>. He thinks of Dream and what made him <em>him</em>, thinks of confident promises, of running and hiding, of yelling and laughter-</p><p> </p><p>“At least you still have it,” Sam starts abruptly, anxiety making his mouth move on its own.</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s head leans to the side, telling him he was listening. “Have what? Food?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” <em>Dumbass. </em>Sam decides to keep the additional comment to himself, avoiding the urge to roll his eyes or bite his lips. “Your laugh. Still sounds like a dumb tea kettle. At least that’s one thing that hasn’t changed about you.” He hesitates before adding more softly, “It’s nice, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>Again, Dream doesn’t reply, his smiley mask blankly drawn towards his plate of food and otherwise unnerving. It’s when Sam feels the spark of a low hiss in the depths of his throat, announcing his ever-growing anxiety, does he deign it time to go back to checking the redstone.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing seems to be out of place, and in all honesty, he didn’t really expect it to be, sometimes people are just paranoid, wanting him to triple-check everything like they didn’t trust him to make this whole thing fool-proof. He even built it alongside Dream <em>himself</em>, and now look which two people are stuck dealing with it every day.</p><p> </p><p>When he dusts off red powder from his gloves, he notices that Dream still hasn’t eaten his food. Although he would’ve ignored the odd behavior any other day, something about that fact makes a part of Sam tick.</p><p> </p><p>“We didn’t poison your food or anything, if you’re worried about that for some reason.” Sam mutters, just barely loud enough so that Dream could hear. “Besides, there’d be no point- we’re not <em>you</em>.” He adds the last part without thinking, annoyance clear in his words, and not half a second later he might have felt a tiny prickle of guilt. He shakes the feeling off anyway, knowing it was justified, what with how much trouble the man has caused and put them through.</p><p> </p><p>Dream puts down his fork and crosses his arms, levelling his head towards Sam’s direction, looking like he didn’t necessarily care at the accusatory words, yet shifting uncomfortably nonetheless. “I never said-” he pauses. “It’s just, there’s.” he sighs deeply, reaching a hand under the mask once again to presumably rub his face. When his other hand hovers uncertainly over the porcelain, clarity overrides Sam’s thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want me to see his face.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s weird. Abrupt in a way that makes Sam cautious over the masked man again, and he suddenly, <em>really</em> wants to get some fresh air right about now. The walls around them are tall, intimidating, and he’d rather see green grass and blue skies than these cold, empty black halls.</p><p> </p><p>Sam clenches and unclenches a fist, taking a deep breath as he picks his next words carefully. “Y’know you could’ve just told me if you didn’t want anyone watching you while you’re eating, right?”</p><p> </p><p>The previously slack posture Dream’s body held tenses up like a coil ready to spring. Defensive. “I never said-”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, sure.” Sam says, completely disagreeing otherwise. “Well, I’ll be taking my leave then-”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam pauses midway from pressing a button. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s something supposedly menacing about the way Dream holds up half of his body by pressing his hands and arms against the obsidian table, as if making himself look bigger, scarier. Sam finds it peculiar that it doesn’t really do its job.</p><p> </p><p>“I just think that-” Dream stops, then mumbles. “You should do that. Stay I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>“What.” Sam echoes his previous word, incredulous and this time sounding less like a question, and more like the times Dream himself said the word with the raised tone of voice that was a response to a stupid query.</p><p> </p><p>Even with the mask on, Sam could see the way realization dawns on Dream’s face, how his shoulders start hunching up and how fingers once outstretched curl into his palm as he leans back and sits down again. If he thought hard enough, Sam could even envision the mortification and embarrassment on Dream’s expression.</p><p> </p><p>The two stare at each other, Sam’s mouth dry with surprise and Dream just stubbornly playing along with… whatever this is.</p><p> </p><p>Was he trying to prove a point? Act like it didn’t matter? What <em>did</em> it matter anyways? Sam’s already seen him at his lowest, bloodied and battered to the point where he could be hauled and locked into the prison until ‘further notice’, whatever that meant, he has seen the scars crisscrossing the former tyrant’s face, his mask flung to the ground mid-battle, mysteriously staying unscathed despite everything- even now, continuing to smile ominously and masking Dream’s emotions.</p><p> </p><p><em>Everyone</em> had seen the way Dream had slowly weakened, fighting ferociously until the very end, even with blood dripping on his face and cuts littering his entire body, he didn’t give in, refused to show a sign of feebleness that wasn’t a broken wrist nor the limp of sprained ankle. He probably never even thought to ask for mercy, almost impaling himself with his own sword if it weren’t for Sapnap knocking him out cold with a harsh hit from the blunt side of an axe.</p><p> </p><p>Not out of worry of him dying, no, but out of the chance that he would respawn somewhere far away and escape.</p><p> </p><p>Sam thinks of that Dream, of feral emerald eyes and sharp growling teeth, and he looks at the one in front of him now, separated by glass and obsidian, looks at the meek mask, at the tired shoulders and twitchy fingers and he wonders, not for the first time.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Who are you?</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“…fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream sighs for the umpteenth time that day, head lolling back against his chair like he knew that it was coming, and Sam has half a mind to squawk in offense, to say that <em>he asked for it</em>, but then Dream’s removing his mask and oh, there’s a milky white on one of his green eyes, and even then they seem dimmer than what Sam’s used to.</p><p> </p><p>“You wanted to hide that from me?” The hybrid asks, gesturing vaguely towards his face, which would have been rude if it were any other person, but what’s courtesy to a prisoner from a warden?</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s brow furrows, mulling over something before he shrugs and starts pushing his food around again. “More than that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Meaning…?”</p><p> </p><p>“…it’s complicated.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam huffs a breath, grabbing his own seat and leaning his cheek against a palm. “We have all the time in the world, Dream. You asked me to stay too-” he adds when Dream opens his mouth to counter. “The least you can do is entertain me while you eat.”</p><p> </p><p>Unbidden, Dream can’t help the lopsided smirk that appears on his face. “There’s a change of standing and suddenly you’re speaking like some pompous asshole. Whatever happened to the fabled kind and wholesome Awesamdude?”</p><p> </p><p>He splutters.</p><p> </p><p>This whole situation is ridiculous in any lens you look it through, Sam’s having ‘lunch’ with the server’s main enemy, had been asked to <em>stay</em>, and now he’s getting flustered because of said enemy’s teasing. If it weren’t for the location, maybe Sam could’ve found it in himself to say that it felt like the olden days, when he’d fish and find nametags and whoop with joy and Dream’d be smiling at him with a ‘Nice job’ on his lips.</p><p> </p><p>But this is Pandora’s Vault.</p><p> </p><p>There is no laughter among friends nor fond ribbing and bickering. Sam stares at the mask laid down beside Dream’s hand and waits for the pinks to leave his cheeks. He sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Why’d you do it, Dream?”</p><p> </p><p>The man twirls around the baked potatoes on his plate, mushing the white flesh with the fork. “I already told you all.” Dream says, practiced and poised. “I did it for the server, but now that I’ve been told that I’m ‘wrong’, then there’s no point in vying for that anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why fight so hard in that battle then?” Sam asks, surprised at the slight desperation in his voice. “You- you <em>saw</em> that everyone was against you; many people have been saying that you were in the wrong for months! What changed that now?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream tucks his chin into his hoodie, curling into himself with each passing word that leaves Sam’s mouth. He mumbles something that doesn’t reach the creeper hybrid’s ears.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“I said I don’t like being weak.” When Sam blinks at him, Dream groans, the sound echoing all over his cell. “Do you remember the days before Tommy was exiled?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam hesitates before nodding. He wasn’t there to witness the predicament for himself, nor was he around to even see the infamous obsidian walls Dream had built around L’Manberg, but news spread fast, and most of them weren’t in the masked man’s good favor.</p><p> </p><p>Dream taps his fork against his plate idly. “Tommy, he threatened me with Spirit’s remains and I- it made me angry. Kid thought he had something over me and could weasel his way out of the trouble he made for himself, and I figured that if there wasn’t anything that he could use against me, then it’d get through his thick skull that he should’ve behaved.” He bites the inside of his mouth before continuing. “And that’s exactly what I did, cut ties with things that could’ve been blackmailed against me.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does that have to do with-”</p><p> </p><p>The pointed glare Dream sends Sam’s way makes him shut up. “I was getting there.</p><p> </p><p>“If there was one thing I’ve learned through that whole fiasco, it was the fact that I had to work with myself and myself alone.” His voice hardens significantly. “Despite what you all might’ve thought, what with gathering everyone against me and all, I’m not invincible, as frustrating that is to admit. I knew that against everyone in this whole server, I wouldn’t’ve stood a chance, I <em>knew</em> that the moment swords and axes were pointed and arrows shot through my shoulder. Logically, there wasn’t anything I can do but accept that loss. But I-”</p><p> </p><p>Dream cuts off with a sharp inhale, lips pressed into a tight frown as he glared at his hands. “I don’t <em>like</em> being weak. If I go down I might as well go down with a bang, or whatever.” He laughs bitterly, “Even now, even though it’s all over and I’m as pathetic as I can be with being stuck here, it’s all I can do to avoid being thought of as even weaker because I’m half blind.”</p><p> </p><p>When his rambling ends, Dream doesn’t bother to look Sam in the eye, tired and maybe even a little afraid to see what’d greet him. Would it be pity? Indifference? Whatever it is, he’s convinced it’d leave him with a cold feeling in his stomach for the rest of the afternoon.</p><p> </p><p>Sam watches him chew his food, hands tapping the cold obsidian under his fingers, and he says after thinking, without any hint of reluctance.</p><p> </p><p>“For what it’s worth, you’re still pretty strong, in my opinion.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream pauses, looking at him like he’s grown two heads. Sam ignores it in favor of mindlessly tracing the swirls of enchantments on his netherite armor.</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, yeah, you aren’t invincible, no one is. Ender, chuck a couple of viruses in the code and the higher ups will probably have trouble with that too, the only reason it happens rarely is because if the code corrupts then so does our homes.” Sam shrugs. “What I’m getting at here is that it’s okay to be weak, Dream.”</p><p> </p><p>When all the other does is keep staring, Sam starts feeling self-conscious.</p><p> </p><p>“What else do you want me to say? Get a bucket of water in here and ruin all my redstone, effectively making me feel like I’ve lost my soul? Redecorate George’s walls so that his house would look like poop? Poke fun at you for being homeless?” His voice gets higher-pitched with each question, but at least Dream seems to have ‘gotten’ the point, if the badly hidden grin on his face had any say.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a horrible warden.” Dream comments, when he’s done laughing. The statement is less of an insult and more of a tease, yet there’s still a hint of remorse in his tone. “I shouldn’t’ve given you this job if this is how you’re doing it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Be glad you’re the one I’m guarding then, asshole.”</p><p> </p><p>When Dream rolls his eyes this time with an exasperated shake of a head, he makes sure that the hybrid sees it. Sam doesn’t mind, all things considered, he thinks he never really did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i dont know what to name the little blob id probably make it a shitty joke and call it bob bc i have no care for seriousness half the time but we'll see</p><p>i hope yall enjoyed reading!!! i hope i can finish this eventually bc i want c!dream to have friends again :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. mushroom stew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi its me again posting this now on 3 am (again) bc ive been having trouble writing for a bit,,</p><p>also asdfkl tysm for the positive response to this fic (i did NOT expect to get more than 50 kudos) uhmhuh dont let me hinder u further from reading this chapter (not much happens sorry it's kinda(??) filler but i hope yall enjoy!!) </p><p>edit: ignore that i forgot it was called mushroom stew. ive had a long few nights orz (also edited notes to make it less incomprehensible lol)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s grass tickling his back and wind on his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>It’s warm and welcoming, not like the cold layout of his prison room, something that felt much more comfortable than itchy, thin blankets and tough, noisy mattresses. Beyond the sound of grass rustling, tickling the tips of his ears, he can hear the quiet and peaceful trickle of water somewhere off in the distance, birds twittering soft songs overhead.</p><p> </p><p>…<em>what?</em></p><p> </p><p>Dream opens his eyes-</p><p> </p><p>and is met with a blue sky dotted with white puffs of clouds.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ah. Of course. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>There’s already a deep frown on his lips when he looks down, sending a half-hearted glare to the small, white blob smiling at him from where it sits on his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh come on now, no need to look so grumpy.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream scoffs, sitting up and shaking it off of him. He looks at his surroundings, watching bees emerge from a nearby hive and start frolicking among a patch of flowers. Sheep were eating grass on the other side of the stream, the only thing louder than their baas were the loud, extended moos of their brown and white splotched neighbors.</p><p> </p><p>Pigs are noticeably absent; Dream thinks with a silent snort.</p><p> </p><p>“You really outdid yourself this time, huh?” he asks, voice deadpan and the slightest bit annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>The blob hobbles along the grass before turning to face him. “We both know this is as much entertainment you’re going to get while we’re stuck here, and frankly, you should be thanking me.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream rolls his eyes, plopping right back down onto the ground with his arms cushioning his head. “Eh, I <em>could</em>, but I don’t really want to, considering it’s, well, <em>you.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you insulting me?”</p><p> </p><p>“That is exactly what I’m doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream jolts as the warmth and peace disappears like a splash of cold water on the face. The light is gone, and he’s once more face to face with an obsidian ceiling, the fake sunlight kissing his face nothing more than a mere memory from weeks ago.</p><p> </p><p>If he were being honest, the feeling of prickly grass was much more comfortable than the stingy bed underneath him, and the pillow could have been as good as a folded blanket. He keeps his mouth shut of any complaints, of course, and waits for the resident squeaky toy to begin its hourly ranting sessions.</p><p> </p><p>“You are the worst.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good, that’s what I’m going for here.”</p><p> </p><p>Ignoring the slew of curses thrown everywhere unapologetically, Dream decides he’d rather spend his time doing something less boring and stands up to make his way towards the little lectern off on the side of the room, squinting his eyes at the bright glowstone in the corner before scanning the open book on the piece of wood.</p><p> </p><p>“At <em>least</em> we can agree that what I do is better than this crappy hobby of yours.” The blob says when it follows, plopping onto his shoulder. Dream would swat it away but decides that it’d be too much trouble.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m still surprised he even bothered.” He murmurs thoughtlessly instead.</p><p> </p><p>Dream could almost imagine the way the blob’s eyes rolled in exasperation as a response. “The creeper hybrid’s <em>soft.</em> <em>You’re</em> soft. It is nauseatingly painful to see it happening in real time while I’m on your face and you’re speaking with my mouth-”</p><p> </p><p>“First off, it’s called basic human decency. Second, you’re delusional, this is my body, it wasn’t yours and never will be, even while I’m wearing the mask.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who cares! Just don’t say I didn’t warn you if ‘human decency’ stabs you in the back in the future, and last I recalled, you were pretty hell-bent in getting everyone to call you a <em>monster-</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said I was going to be close to him.” Dream argues, hair raising at the back of his neck. He turns his head to look at his left shoulder, voice raised yet still low enough to tell himself he was still in control. “And shut up; I never asked.”</p><p> </p><p>He tunes out whatever words get shouted in his head next and goes back to paying attention to the book.</p><p> </p><p>Compared to the repetitive, fully written ones about the history of the world, potion recipes and ingredients, crafting instructions, guides to the nether and other, day by day knowledge that’s useful to know in the outside world, this one is blank.</p><p> </p><p>However, maybe blank wasn’t quite the right statement, thinking about it, as Dream sits down on a wooden chair and smooths over the crinkled parchments. There were rips in the middle of the book, the front of where it’s spine is, clearly showing signs of being written on, yet removed and tossed away. Some parts of the paper had dots of black ink, smudged due to the pointy end of the quill being left on it for too long, as if the writer had been lost in thought with each letter that he added.</p><p> </p><p>Dream leans back against his chair and, grabbing the feathered quill beside the book and dipping it into an ink bottle, begins absentmindedly doodling circles on the papers.</p><p> </p><p>He’d been given a chest-full of blank books and an infinite supply of ink; another way to pass the time if the books so graciously donated ended up making him go insane, as Awesamdude had so kindly put.</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t you say that you always wanted to be a writer?” Sam had asked, when he came over one day and dumped the chest near the glowstone, clapping his hands to remove the dust and promptly turned to face Dream. “I know I told you that I’d bring something other than books to pass the time, but these were just gathering dust at the Spider spawner and I figured you might as well have them.”</p><p> </p><p>The wood creaked eerily, clearly old and worn. Dream had watched him through the mask (something he still refused to remove around the warden except when he was eating), wary eyes hidden by the porcelain as he held a respective distance away from the fully-armored hybrid.</p><p> </p><p>That was another thing too.</p><p> </p><p>He’d certainly been more… eager, to enter Dream’s cell. Once upon a time, he’d bail the moment he had done what he needed to do, never wanting to spending an extra second with the masked man, and now, well.</p><p> </p><p>Now it seemed like Sam had completely tossed aside that supposed, unspoken rule.</p><p> </p><p>“Well.” Dream had replied, tipping his head in that unnerving way that came with wearing a blank, smiley porcelain mask. “I wouldn’t say I <em>always</em> wanted to do it.”</p><p> </p><p>The ‘unnerving’ part was apparently lost to Sam. “<em>Well,</em>” he had countered, voice low and casually monotone. “The important part is you did say it. Now enjoy, we’re having cooked salmon today; I made sure they’re not inherently raw this time.”</p><p> </p><p>After that (and the few days before it, admittedly), there’s been many more of their supposed ‘lunches’ (and sometimes breakfast and dinner) with each other. Every day, without fail, Sam would come by and bring him his meals, every day, he wouldn’t fail to inspect his cell, enact a short, painless death to make sure he didn’t have anything on him that’d help him escape the room.</p><p> </p><p>Every day, he would not fail to sit down on the obsidian table with Dream after handing him whatever flavorless food he’d manage to cook in the kitchen, sit down on the other side of the glass, and make small talk.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Small talk.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dream’d be laughing in the sheer ridiculousness of it all, if these occasions didn’t quite genuinely leave a feeling akin to a squirming ball of worms in his belly.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re thinking about him again.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream snaps back to the present, noticing the ink on his quill had dried out, messy, faint patterns of scribbles imprinted on the book, connecting to a thin trail of ink from one corner to another. This time he doesn’t resist the urge to swat at the space by his shoulder like there was a fly. “Shoo. Go away. I’ve thought we’ve established that I don’t care? You’re always in my head, it’s not like it makes much of a difference whether or not you tell me you know what I’m thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>The blob easily plops itself right back on Dream’s shoulder, dodging his attempts to remove it. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides it’s much more fun to annoy you than listen to you nag on and on <em>and on</em> about dumb shit that’d bite you in the ass, it’s sad, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream sighs. “If you’re so pressed about being bored, why not do that illusion thing you’re so proud of?”</p><p> </p><p>“You know what? Pathetic little man? Maybe I will.”</p><p> </p><p>In the blink of an eye. Dream finds himself situated in front of a cliff, the lectern and chair and book was still there, but instead of being surrounded by black walls of obsidian, he was simply free. His hand slacks its hold on the quill as he gazes at the lake before him, and as he looks down, he recognizes the expanse of stone, granite, andesite and dirt on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>The blob hops down onto the lectern, placing itself on the edge to watch the water ripple as wind blew and brought with it the fresh scents of flowers and dew. “Recognize this place, <em>Dream?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Dream blinks, watching oak and birch rustling with the breeze from the edges of the lake. The water wasn’t very deep, now that he remembered, it was at most three blocks, and was randomly patched with gravel, clay and sand. It looked empty, no sign of having ever been touched or having been moved.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not ashamed to admit that that changed once he and his... old friends arrived.</p><p> </p><p>“This place looks like shit.” Dream says, nothing more, nothing less. “Good thing we decided to liven up, I forgot it looked so bad without all that coral and sea grass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Must be a good thing that we offed that brick house in the middle of it then.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream just about manages to stop the groan that threatens to leave his throat. “<em>That’s</em> what this is about? When the hell will you learn that I literally don’t give a flying fu-”</p><p> </p><p>“I have brought the prisoner his breakfast.”</p><p>It should have been disorienting, to have the feeling of wind in his hair disappear as suddenly as the snap of a finger. But being who he is, he’s learned to roll with life’s punches, however awful or surprising they turn out to be. He’s still not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.</p><p> </p><p>Sam snaps his fingers again from where he stood waiting on the other side of the compartment, looking expectant, and Dream sighs and puts on the mask laying listlessly on the lectern, ignoring how the corners of its smile seem quite smug.</p><p> </p><p>“Awesamdude.” Dream says, in lieu of a greeting. “Is it eggs today? I hope you didn’t forget to add salt or pepper.”</p><p> </p><p>And maybe Dream too, is slowly easing into this song and dance of light banter and teasing with one another, slowly easing into smiling a little more, slowly allowing the mask to raise up, and up, and up-</p><p> </p><p>“Afraid not.” Sam responds, faintly amused, and Dream gives himself a subtle pinch under his cloak. “Today’s agenda is mushroom stew, get it while it’s hot- or, err, mildly warm, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>When the bowl of soup is put on his usual obsidian table, and it seems like the hybrid’s staying on his spot, a thoughtful look on his face present, Dream psyches himself up with a deep, steady breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Not to worry.” Sam calls, keen eyes now used to when Dream’s about to remove his mask- which is, well, is a <em>thing- </em>it’s not like it matters, he’s never stopped Dream from doing it whenever they have lunch, even though he knows how it makes the younger feel and Dream- well Dream never really complained about it either, so who’s fault is that? “I’m leaving early- leaving the rest of the day, actually, maybe even more.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream pauses for a second, taking the information in and wondering what he’s supposed to do with it. “Are you here to tell me to savor this meal as long I can then?” his tone is hesitant. “Until you come back?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Sam’s voice is sharp, incredulous, and Dream’s impressed with how easily he hides himself flinching. “No- No why would I say that? We’re not going to <em>starve</em> you Dream I’m not-” he shakes his head. “No. I, I’m getting someone else to guard you while I’m away, someone else to give your meals and everything else.”</p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh.” Dream says, caught off guard. He mentally shakes off whatever strange energy that’s fizzing in his body right then, and gathers the courage to question. “Can this prisoner ask what’s gotten your attention to leave me? Something big enough to warrant that I should be worried about?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just- bad juju things. Bad’s up in his head again and he’s been asking for me the last few days to talk, you remember the egg?” He backtracks visibly. “Actually, no, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that. Forget what I said.”</p><p> </p><p>“The egg?” Dream echoes. Thoughts flit back to red vines crawling along stone and wood and grass, sucking out the color of blues and making them run crimson, of turning those <em>already</em> red a stark, pale white. He hasn’t been allowed anywhere near the main areas of the Greater Dream SMP long before he’s been locked in prison, but he’s seen them one or more times, has been in contact with where they resided.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Is Bad okay? Didn’t they get rid of it at some point? Blocked it off with obsidian? What happened to that? </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He wasn’t particularly keeping check of them, honestly, too busy and invested with… with Tommy’s exile, and he thought he’d dodged a bullet of getting a headache dealing with <em>that</em> when he spotted crawling red vines being mined by the main perpetrators one day.</p><p> </p><p><em>(He vehemently denies the worry over his <strike>friendsfamily</strike> enemies, over Bad and Ant, over </em>Puffy<em>).</em></p><p> </p><p>Dream’s leg bounces from where he was sitting, some kind of restlessness settling in his body like a cornered animal.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>Hisserver’sgettingcorruptedwhatis</strike>
  </em>
  <strike>happening<em>whilehe’sinhere?</em></strike>
</p><p> </p><p>“What is-”</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry.” Sam interrupts, though his tone of voice says otherwise. “It doesn’t involve you, not <em>anymore</em> at least. I’ll get through Bad, he’s probably just overwhelmed what with how much stuff’s been going on lately.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream clenches his jaw. He wants to rebuke, say what’s on his mind, but he stops the urge with a frazzled shake of a head. “Fine. Alright.” he says, half sarcastic, half seeming like he was convincing himself. “Sure. I’ve forgotten it, nothing in my head anymore, nada, it’s empty.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam unsurprisingly ignores his displeasure. “Good to know. But before I get out of your hair, I have this for you too.” He slides over an item frame and a clock.</p><p> </p><p>Dream eyes the offered things before looking back at Sam who shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>“Saw you kept checking the one behind my back every time I gave you your meals and thought there wouldn’t be any harm in letting you have your own.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you didn’t think to wonder that I could do something with these that’d help me escape here?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. What are you gonna do with an item frame and a clock? Manipulate time to go back before all this shit happened?” he gestures to the bowl. “Anyways, don’t let me stop you from eating your food. I just wanted to hop by this morning and give you that and tell you about me being absent, sorry we can’t have any of our ‘lunch dates’,” his fingers make bunny ears at the words, “behave while I’m gone, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>And Dream, well, he’s kind of appalled.</p><p> </p><p><em>What makes you think I care about our ‘lunch dates’? </em>He wants to ask, instead what comes out of his mouth is, “Who’s the replacement while you’re gone?”</p><p> </p><p>He thinks there’s almost a more genuine, apologetic glint to Sam’s eyes this time. “Someone you’re probably on bad terms with, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. He’s the only one who’s willing to do this for the time being, and not without good payment I tell you- I feel like a hole’s been burned through my pocket.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s mind clicks, and he sighs. “I shouldn’t’ve bothered asking, doesn’t even matter either way.”</p><p> </p><p>“No need to be like that.” Sam says, slightly exasperated. “I’ll be taking my leave then. See you.”</p><p> </p><p>The masked man hmphs. “Yeah. Bye, or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>When the hybrid’s gone, Dream, ignoring how the silence seems to have doubled compared to what he’s used to, takes a spoonful of light brown broth and makes a face.</p><p> </p><p>“‘Mildly warm’ my ass.” The blob says, manifesting into its much more annoying form. “This shit’s colder than the fucking arctic.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream doesn’t necessarily disagree, but he swallows anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>before i start rambling,, thank you so much for reading!!! i also appreciate everyone who left comments whether they're a simple 'i love this!' or a really lovely analysis about the fic in itself (which i may mention, some of which are scarily accurate on the type of direction i want this fic to have LMAO) im sorry for not replying tho, im just not sure how to respond! i like reading them whenever im feeling down though, so thank you  ^^ now, onto my rambling (feel free to ignore me)</p><p>if you didnt know, i wrote this fic before jan 20, and since after that date, i decided to take some liberties w 'canon' for the sake of my sanity T_T you'll probably find some inconsistencies but also vague references to what has happened after the 20th (eg dream being in prison for a month w no visitors and this chapter mentioning him having a lectern for writing, not to mention his clock) </p><p>i thought id be writing this like an au, but dream getting in prison is canon now :] so :]]] (not to say that this won't be heavily canon divergent in some parts, since i doubt the current plot's gonna resolve anytime soon)</p><p>ive also always wanted to add in blood vines plot into this, so im pleasantly surprised at the amount of writing i could work with in current streams,, and im really excited to get to them! (although a little behind whoops) </p><p>anyways! thats all, again, thank u for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. mercenary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter is heavily unedited so sorry if the mistakes are more glaring than usual! </p><p>im posting this way later than i would have liked but ive been having writer's block so theres really nothing i can do about it so orz</p><p>edit: tried to fix some mistakes, idk if I got all of them since I'm on my phone rn but I tried! I also would like to mention that i posted this at like... 2 am, a bit better than my usual 3 am posting I hope</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>White sand crunches underneath four pairs of boots, accompanied by the sound of waves crashing and rolling on the shoreline. The winds in this part of the SMP were strong and brought with it the scent of saltwater- it would have felt like any normal day in a beach, if it weren’t for the looming, dark structure built on top of the sea.</p><p> </p><p>Dark, looming shadows cast over the group of people nearing the mini hub containing the entrance to the prison; some kind of nether portal that Punz’s head hurt to think about on how it even worked. The general energy of even just standing near it felt imposing and threatening, but he knew what was more intimidating were the people who were responsible for building such a thing in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>Sam doesn’t bat an eye when the hiss of the nether portal greets them inside along with loud redstone machines whirring beneath thick layers of blackstone and obsidian, neither does Dream; standing pliant with his hands restricted by Punz, who, in his credit, only has a bit of sweat on his palms.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna have to access the prison entrance on my own for a bit.” Sam says, voice cool and gaze carefully avoiding their prisoner. “You’ll have to stay here while I do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t we just come with?” Punz asks, exasperated and weary all at once.</p><p> </p><p>Sam shakes his head. “This is Pandora’s Vault, it’s supposed to be inescapable and unbreakable for a reason. I’m not planning to let anyone know how it works anytime soon.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz sighs, sending a meaningful look towards the other member of their party, as equally silent as Dream, before looking back at Sam.</p><p> </p><p><em>Please don’t leave me alone here with these two.</em> The blonde pleads mentally.</p><p> </p><p><em>I’ll only take a second.</em> Sam’s eyes state back. He does a little finger salute before entering the purple haze of the nether portal. “I’ll be off then.”</p><p> </p><p>Hot air briefly blows across Punz’s face before he groans internally and awkwardly stands there in the obsidian encased room with two other people, one of which he once considered a trusted friend, now turned enemy of the entire server, though if he were being honest, it felt like all three of them were strangers now anyway.</p><p> </p><p>A sound that might have been a grunt comes from Sapnap, and Punz watches as the youngest of the three huffs by the entryway, back turned to them as he taps a heavy netherite boot against the floor.</p><p> </p><p><em>Like a brooding baby.</em> Punz idly thinks, it’s a thought that would have even come from the man he was restraining. Speaking of.</p><p> </p><p>Dream is as unresponsive as ever, face hidden in mild shadow by a green hood, his mask lost in the battle hours prior, and to be honest Punz isn’t even sure he’d want to look even if Dream let them. The only thing that gives an inkling of a read towards the man is the hunch of his form, usually taller than Punz himself, now slouching from something that the older wasn’t sure were his own contemplation or pain.</p><p> </p><p>Just as the thought makes itself known in his head, a harsh, sharp cough rips itself out of Dream’s mouth, and Punz gapes as he spits red on the tiles, something that’s barely visible on black, the blood only noticable thanks to its sheen.</p><p> </p><p>Punz stares unapologetically as the other moves his shoulders faintly, maybe shaking off soreness, aches and stinging bruises. They -everyone who took part in ambushing Dream- had the unanimous agreement to not splash him with any healing pots despite them taking everything from his inventory, all his weapons, his armor, golden apples and potions and ender pearls, <em>all of it</em> – Punz doesn’t know whether that was from fear or lack of empathy, at this point. Probably both.</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” He murmurs instead of dwelling any further about it, Sapnap cringes from across the room. “there goes the flooring.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream snorts, licking his probably bloody teeth, but doesn’t respond anymore beyond that.</p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Punz knows that Sapnap was watching him closely, expression blank, feelings veiled beneath dying embers of orange, something Punz- a younger, less flinty version of the present one- would have nagged about until he got answers.</p><p> </p><p>They were like that, once upon a time, like brothers who’d pester each other if something were on their minds, not yielding to annoying tactics like dumb, childish poking or relentless pranks. He remembers days where he played around with George and Sapnap, where the latter two were roughhousing and Punz had decided to join into ribbing Gogy, chasing him with a crafting table in one hand and a crossbow in another.</p><p> </p><p>He wonders when those days ceased to be, wonders when imagining them had felt like looking at old, outdated pictures, wonders when Dream had wiped himself out of the frame, and then reappearing not like an old friend coming back from a trip, but someone looking for a person to do a job, and that person had been Punz.</p><p> </p><p>The hiss of the nether portal reveals Sam’s return.</p><p> </p><p>“S’all good now.” He announces, wiping redstone dust off his hands before gesturing at the lead Punz was holding, tied to Dream’s wrists. “I’ll be taking it from here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alone?” Punz asks, even with the relief of leaving blossoming in his chest, he’s not sure he’s comfortable leaving these two by their lonesome. “Can you handle him?”</p><p> </p><p>Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t underestimate me. Besides,” he adds, leveling his head towards Dream. “There’s not much he can do once inside the prison.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re sure?”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap’s voice startles Punz into looking at him, it was the first time the younger had spoken since they were sent to escort Dream in prison. His usual chipper voice is low, masked in a tone that was achingly similar to the times he was pretending, stronger than what he feels, weaker than what he wants the others to hear.</p><p> </p><p>Punz blinks, mouth dry. Sam is the one who responds, short and concise, and maybe a little softer compared to his clipped responses towards Punz.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You guys can go.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream is quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Sam takes the burden off of Punz, and Punz is left alone with Sapnap.</p><p> </p><p>They both watch as the green coded men merge with the nether portal, and something in Punz’s gut tells him the light squeeze in his chest is similar to what Sapnap’s expression looked like right now as the purple lights swallow Sam and Dream whole.</p><p> </p><p>Any other long, tiring day like this one, Punz would have just left, counted his money and passed out in bed- he <em>should</em> be doing that right now, actually, a lonely, one-man celebration for having gotten rid of the server’s main villain, the guy pulling all the strings- but instead he just feels lost, almost, half-empty, not <em>completely</em> empty, just… just a strange sense of</p><p> </p><p>What were they supposed to do now?</p><p> </p><p>Punz watches the nether portal’s particles swirl in the air. He waits, then. “We sure did it, didn’t we,” he murmurs, though it's not really said like a query. “He’s gone.”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap doesn’t look at him when he responds, brows faintly furrowed before his gaze drifts to the spot of blood on the floor. “He’s been gone for a long time now.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz finds himself agreeing in meager silence, a little solemn, a little wishful.</p><p> </p><p>The two stand there for what feels like seconds and years, and Punz considers leaving until Sapnap releases a breath. “Did you mean it?” he asks. “That day you said that Dream had gone too far, when he blew up the Community House? Did you really mean to turn your back against him? To side with Tommy?”</p><p> </p><p>Frowning, Punz meets his gaze before shifting it towards the blue sky outside, a stark contrast to the black walls around them. “Dream should’ve paid me more- I’m leaving it at that.”</p><p> </p><p>He expects something like indignation from Sapnap, anger, maybe, sure that he’d ticked him off into a rant with a half-assed response like that, but instead the younger lets out a humorless laugh, lips twitching up into what might’ve been a more genuine smile. “Of course you’d say that, you asshole.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz finds himself smirking in response, shaking his head. A beat passes, then two. He makes a decision.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any plans now that he won’t be around much anymore?”</p><p> </p><p>Sapnap pauses, eyes flashing with something reminiscent before he answers in a quaint mumble. “Nothing I’ve thought about in long term. M’gonna get Beckerson to a safe place, with Mars, somewhere he won’t be able to find them anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz nods thoughtfully. “Can I tag along? You don’t have to show me where you put your fishies,” he half-jokes when Sapnap looks at him suspiciously. “I can like, pretend I can’t see while you bury them somewhere, I’m no judge.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you really want?” There’s amusement in Sapnap’s tone even as he rolls his eyes. “Is there some underlying dirt here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Aww come on, maybe I just wanted to grab lunch with an old friend because it’s been sooo looongg.” Punz drags the words out in the annoying way that’d either make you scoff or laugh, and thankfully, with how much Sapnap's lips wobble in an attempt to not smile, it was the latter.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll consider it.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz waves his arms closer to him, faux pouting. “Saapnapppp.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream is not gone. Not entirely, the blonde thinks, as Sapnap slaps his hands away. “You’re so clingy!” he laughs, and Punz chuckles alongside him.</p><p> </p><p>But with his presence being encased in layers of obsidian, of the mining fatigue of elder guardians and the various red stone contraptions sealing him within Pandora’s Vault, Punz figures he won’t mind trying to mend what’s been severed due to his own neglect, and as Sapnap leads him away from the prison, he hopes the others won’t mind trying to do that as well.</p><p> </p><p>At the back of his mind, he wonders if these bonds being broken are really to be blamed towards the young man donned in the green cape and a white mask with a crudely drawn smile.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Sam saunters onto his property on a sunny day, the intensity present in his expression rivalling the shining of the sun.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s up?” Punz asks, mindlessly leading him towards Bumpkin’s little piece of land, knowing the horse had a calming effect on Sam as much as it did Punz.</p><p> </p><p>It takes no time for them to find the animal, and Sam idly reaches up to pet Bumpkin’s head, sighing. “I have a favor to ask.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz’s lip twists downwards slightly, he hopes it doesn’t show as he brushes Bumpkin’s mane as a distraction. “You only ever visit when you ‘need a favor’, can’t you even drop by to say hi sometimes?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, Punz.” Sam groans before he pulls out an ender chest. “I’ve been busy, y’know how it goes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, gee, I sure don’t, considering you won’t even let me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, yes.” Sam agrees tiredly. “Now, how many diamond blocks would you want?”</p><p> </p><p>Punz bites the inside of his cheek. “What do you even want me to do in the first place?”</p><p> </p><p>“Take my place as warden for the next few days or so.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz drops the brush. “What.”</p><p> </p><p>“You heard me.” Sam says, meeker now. “I’m sorry that this is sudden. However, I’m not sorry for <em>not</em> telling you how the prison actually works, I’ve just been way over my head dealing with the migraine that is BadBoyHalo and Antfrost pestering me about blood vines this and red eggs that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Punz says, because no, he can’t really tell him that he’s in on it too, good thing factions and secrets are still a thing, somewhat, it’s better off Sam doesn’t know he’s been… <em>weirdly</em> interested in whatever stuff’s been happening underground so far. “That’s fair, but why ask me? Not that I don’t like the payment.”</p><p> </p><p>Sam’s scowl burrows deeper. “No offense, I <em>would</em> ask other people, someone preferably as familiar with redstone as me, but no one’s really interested in guarding some big black box and be tasked with feeding the server’s resident ‘tyrant’ his three meals a day quota. I know redstone gives you a headache, but I’m really left with no other choice here, might as well shoot my shot even if it costs me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em>would</em> be pretty offended if that weren’t true.” Punz admits, snorting. “Give me six diamond blocks, and two netherite ingots. Dream still scares the fuck outta me, it’s only fair I get paid properly for this.”</p><p> </p><p>“My pockets are empty but at least that’s one problem off my list.” Sam reaches a hand out. “Shake on it?”</p><p> </p><p>Punz takes his hand and they share twin smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“By the way, did Bumpkin have foals?” Sam points at a carbon copy of Bumpkin, laying on the grass listlessly with the same diamond armor as the one they were petting right now. “Who is that?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That’s the horse I was supposed to kill in front of all of you. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Yes and no.” Punz says in lieu of having to outright lie. “I don’t have a name for them, but let’s just say it’s nice that Bumpkin doesn’t have to be alone here anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Bumpkin -the <em>real</em> Bumpkin- snorts derisively, the fake one ignores them.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>For a man named Dream, sleep is a pretty iffy subject, funnily enough. He was somewhat kind of an insomniac like that, rarely sleeping the night and taking mini naps throughout the day, when he’d disappear and grind and observe. If you ask how much hours of shut-eye he gets a day average, most likely will he only either answer with a cryptic ‘I don’t sleep’ or shrug and move on to the next question. The base of the fact is- Dream was not an avid sleeper.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, all that was prone to change now that he’s been sent to prison.</p><p> </p><p>It should have been better, maybe, that he has all the time in the world to get the rest he’s been missing out on for months. But Dream’s not the type to settle in one place all the time, maybe staring at obsidian walls or the glow of hot lava from beyond the coldness of the corner was starting to get on his nerves, maybe the blob growing quieter each day had been a fact of worry, maybe he’d begun to notice how much Sam had affected him, how much those little ‘lunch dates’ had made him so, unbelievably, irresponsibly vulnerable, a weakling<em>, stupidstupidSTUPID-</em></p><p> </p><p>Dream’s not been getting much sleep lately.</p><p> </p><p>“They should’ve called you Nightmare rather than Dream.” The blob says when he jolts to wakefulness for the fifth time that day. “It’d suit your personality better, not to mention your fucked up brain.”</p><p> </p><p>“Very original.” Dream murmurs back, hand pressed on his forehead as he suppresses images of blood and flames and destruction. Of voices creeping into his mind, louder than they’ve ever been while he’s forced to face in the silence of his cell. A headache threatened to make matters a hundred times worse, and he worries the nausea in his stomach might warrant for a bucket.</p><p> </p><p>The blob’s voice echoes in his head, cool and calculating. “And look who’s letting a cold get to them.” It hisses, edged with poison. “No wonder you got yourself stuck here, if you get a bug from doing virtually <em>nothing</em> then you might as well be <em>dead</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream closes his eyes, taking deep solid breaths to keep from hurling stomach acid, or from strangling the piece of shit commenting beside him. Sam wouldn’t like it if he had to mop up the gross mess off of the floor when he comes back.</p><p> </p><p>“Sam’s not even here, dumbass.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up! Don’t you think I <em>know </em>that?!”</p><p> </p><p>His chest heaves with his outburst, sweat dripping on his brow as strands of dirty blonde hair sticks to his skin. Something wet burns behind his eyes. Dream releases a shaky breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream. Dinner’s here.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh great.</em> Dream’s not sure if that voice was from the blob or his own head, he’s been having trouble differentiating them today. <em>Another nuisance enters the fray.</em></p><p> </p><p>Trying to shake off the feeling of whatever makes his bones feel like lead, Dream grabs the mask by his pillow and puts it on, ignoring how it felt so much harder to breathe, how hot it felt to constrict the space over his cheeks, and stifles the coughs rattling inside his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Punz looks dismissive as ever, borderline bored, even, as he waits by the little obsidian table and taps netherite boots on blackstone.</p><p> </p><p>“Took you long enough.” The blonde says as Dream shuffles in view, he seems to pause. “You look like shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream waves him off, miraculously sitting himself on one of the wooden chairs without tripping over his feet. “F-“ he cuts off at the croakiness of his voice, clearing his throat. It felt sore. “Food.” He repeats, slowly, like tasting the words on his tongue. “Where…where is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Punz watches him for a little longer before slowly going through the process of handing him his food.</p><p> </p><p><em>Can’t you just hand it over like a normal person, </em>Dream wants to say, fever making him more irritable, <em>Christ. You’re acting like I can escape with only a fork on my person. It’s stupid.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“I am a man of my word.” Punz says, looking a bit nonplussed, and that’s when Dream realizes that he spoke all that out loud. “Sam paid me fair and square to ‘properly’ take care of you, whatever that means, and unless you got the means to pay that higher I plan to follow through with it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think you’d do it even if I gave you a stack of netherite.” Dream says, but with exhaustion weighing on his shoulders and what feels like a numb tongue, it comes out as gibberish like “M’dont think ‘do it if stack nether’ ite.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever you say, dude.” Punz almost rolls his eyes. “Even your throat sounds like someone shot it with multiple crossbows. You don’t even <em>talk</em> anymore, what’d you do to fuck it up so bad? Scream your lungs out?” the mercenary snorts in amusement. “That’d be a bit cliché, yeah? …Dream?”</p><p> </p><p>When he gets no response, Punz looks up and sees a lump of green lying face forward on the black obsidian table. His brow wrinkles. “You know its pretty rude to sleep in front of food, and kinda disrespectful, in my opinion."</p><p> </p><p>"..."</p><p> </p><p>“You know what? Since I’m such a nice guy I’ll wait for you to wake up so that you don’t have to eat your food alone. What’d Sam call them? Small talk? Well we’ll call this one dinner dates, that is, if you actually wake the fuck up now, Dream. Dream? Dreeaammm.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz squints at the figure. <em>Yep, definitely passed out.</em> He considers just leaving him there, he wasn’t lying earlier, Dream <em>did</em> look like shit, even with his dumb porcelain mask on his dumb face Punz could see the way his shoulders were hunched in fatigue, how he kept shuffling his feet when he went to meet him at the obsidian table.</p><p> </p><p>Yet something stops Punz from taking a step away from the lonely, obsidian cell, and he sighs as he goes over the process to let himself in. “If I break even a tiny bit of redstone, Sam’ll have my head.” He mutters, trying to remember if the right switch was a lever or a button. “You know how crazy that guy is with this stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>His voice bounces off the wall and echoes all around him, and the silence in response serves to make him feel even more creeped out beneath the repeated growling of elder guardians.</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere along the way, something hisses like a bunch of compressed air was released, and Punz heaves a sigh of relief when a platform moves and he’s allowed a way inside the cell. Carefully making his way towards Dream, he keeps himself on guard, wary of any trick the masked man might’ve had at his sleeve, and he doubts it, really, but you’ll never know with someone like Dream.</p><p> </p><p>The younger doesn’t move, not by a long shot, and now that Punz is closer he can see how pale his skin looked, can hear the way how ragged his breathing was, how shaky his back moved in times with his breaths. And yeah, no shit, he’s got himself a fever.</p><p> </p><p>“What’d you even do to get yourself sick in the first place?” Punz says, exasperated. He hovers over Dream, hand hesitantly over the mask, debating whether he should take it off or not. Instead, he sighs and reaches a palm under it, feeling for Dream’s temperature.</p><p> </p><p>At the touch, however, Dream harshly flinches back and topples away from the chair, breathing getting even more deeper and irregular, and Punz goes still at the heavy words that he manages to push out of his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t… don’t touch me.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s an odd statement to hear from someone like him, and Punz can’t help but stare.</p><p> </p><p>Dream stays in that unsteady crouch, looking both like a cornered animal ready to spring or bolt away, neither of which seemed like it brought any promising effects.</p><p> </p><p>“You…” What does he even <em>say</em> in this situation? Sure Punz agreed to practically babysit him but Sam hadn’t included any instruction manual on the case of him getting sick. He’s still appalled from the fact that Dream even <em>got</em> sick in the first place, actually, he’s never seen him like that, seemingly always untouchable, indestructible, and now,</p><p> </p><p>Now it looks like a faint breeze could enter the room and Dream’d crumple to the floor like a pile of twigs.</p><p> </p><p>Dream hunches into himself even more, sitting down on the obsidian like his legs were about to give out underneath him. “Don’t… don’t look at me… like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Like…” Dream licks his lips, swallowing. “Like I’m weak.”</p><p> </p><p>“No offense.” Punz says, not kindly or unkindly, just simply being honest. “But you’re doing a pretty shit job of making it seem like the opposite right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream grumbles under his breath before he pulls his knees up and curls into them. “Just leave, Punz.” He croaks. “Leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think-“</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Please.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Punz pauses at the desperation in his tone, feet shifting in what he would have denied was nervousness. He looks on as Dream presses the mask against his knees, breath hitching in ragged clumps every time he inhaled, then lets his frown harden. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream sighs. “<em>Punz</em>-“</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.” The blonde makes sure to pop the ‘p’. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned to be from working with you, it’s being incredibly, stupidly, <em>stubborn</em>, now come on.”</p><p> </p><p>He wastes no time in nearing the curled up man and helping him up. Dream doesn’t resist, at least, not as much as he would have liked, probably.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>.” Dream rasps. “Why won’t you just leave?”</p><p> </p><p>Punz rolls his eyes and lets him sit on the bed. “Cause I’m an annoying pest that doesn’t know how to leave. Now lay down before you bang your head on the floor because you’re an idiot who’ll try to stand up when I tell you to stay still.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream takes a deep breath. “Don’t… don’t tell anyone… about this, just… I’ll let you do what you want just don’t…”</p><p> </p><p>Punz isn’t sure why he’s asking, but he relents. “I won’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” At least Dream relaxes at that. “S’fine though. I’m okay, you’re fussing for nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well- what the- <em>shit-</em> there’s blood on your fucking chin<em>-“</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Nose bleed.” Dream explains, nonchalantly reaching a hand under the mask, dyeing it red as he removes it. “S’nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re insane.”</p><p> </p><p>“I get that a lot.” Dream shrugs. “Don’t get what’s new there.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz shakes his head. “Crazy is what you are. Here.” He walks away to grab his bowl of dinner. “You’re lucky this is broth.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is that.” Dream mutters, wrinkling his nose. “Beetroot? Beetroot sucks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just eat your food before I shove it down your <em>throat</em>-“</p><p> </p><p>It’s both surprising and unsurprising that Punz has to genuinely wrangle a man into swallowing some stew, it reminds him of younger days when George or Sapnap would get sick and he’d volunteer sometimes to help take care of them. Of course, the main caretaker was always Bad, but Punz found it easier to be of help than the antsy wait for their recovery.</p><p> </p><p>“Life would’ve been easier if it stayed that way.” Punz mumbles under his breath, Dream is silent, he doesn’t know whether he’s asleep or not, his mask hiding half his face.</p><p> </p><p>Punz huffs. “How’d you even get that mask in here? I thought you lost it at the battle.”</p><p> </p><p>“Snagged it in the nick of time.” Dream replies, expectedly still awake. “Won’t tell you how though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well that’s a bunch of bullcrap.”</p><p> </p><p>The other chuckles lightly, a sound unbecoming of a person dubbed as the power-hungry dictator wanting control of the whole server. Punz’s shoulders shift at the thought.</p><p> </p><p>He sighs. “Dream,” he starts, wondering how he was gonna go with this. “the day when I-“</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to hear it.” The little eyes on the mask seem to swirl with intensity. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t- we’re past that. It’s just annoying to bring up.”</p><p> </p><p>Well there goes his attempt at communication. Punz pinches the bridge of his nose. “You make this shit so difficult, y’know?”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me something I don't know.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz nearly throws his hands in the air at exasperation. “Help a guy when he’s sick and then suddenly he’s being as difficult as a goddamn rock.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m more surprised you even expected anything else from me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” Punz says. “I’m leaving.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait. Punz.” He’s halfway out the cell when he hears Dream call his name, swiveling around with crossed arms and a sharp frown. “What? This better be worth-“</p><p> </p><p>Dream’s curled over his bed, one arm over his stomach and another on his mouth. “M’bucket.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bucket?” Punz repeats, eyebrow raising.</p><p> </p><p>Dream visibly swallows. “Please?”</p><p> </p><p>Punz clenches his jaw before conceding, turning away and heading towards the guards’ quarters. It’s a tiny step, probably not even genuine, but he’ll take it. Who knew trying to have a heart-to-heart with a former friend turned tyrant would be so hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Hurry up or I’m seriously gonna hurl.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Don’t you dare.</em>”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank u for reading, and, once more, thanks a bunch for the kudos and comments! really makes my heart warm :]<br/>we're almost at 500 kudos and already at 3000+ hits, u guys are insanee :0</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. cotton</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw for a slight panic attack and glitchy text at 'A broken smile. Freezing him on the spot.' the glitchy text is only two lines, you can skip the panic attack completely by going to 'He retracts his shaky hands-'</p><p>If the the glitchy text proves to be too much of a bother, I'll remove it entirely! C:</p><p>There's also slight suicide ideation in 'And wouldn't it be so easy?' just skip the whole paragraph and you'll be fine (though there's a little comment afterward about it too, so be careful y'all)</p><p>also another disclaimer; i am in no way an expert in writing this kind of stuff, this is all purely for fun and u shouldnt base real life w this fic ever! idk how to accurately describe what a panic attack feels like, since i think the last time i had one was when i was a little kid, so feel free to tell me if some of my writing here is inherently harmful! ill try and fix it as soon as i can ;o;</p><p>anyways, here goes the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dream isn't a sickly person, at least, not physically.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe he’d go as far as to say he’s one of the best people out there in terms of, well, surviving. Dream had taken care of himself from the ground up ever since he was a kid, had learned to fend for himself years before he met Sapnap, then Bad, then George, and then everyone else. It’s a part of his past he’s never really told anyone, fine with the story of growing up with the others; just a bunch of gangly children against the world holding each other’s hands and calling it the family they’ve never had.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers hunting for food, foraging for medicine, protecting everyone from the monsters of the night. Always antsy and restless to move around and do something useful, he never really did do a good job of staying still those days, and it’s part of the reason why he took care of himself, loathed having to stay bedridden in the chance he got injured or sick.</p><p> </p><p>Dream muses as he stares at black obsidian and listens to the low hum of redstone machines, it’s a bit ironic to be thinking of that now, huh? Of course being stuck in prison and not doing anything wasn’t enough, of course he had to get sick in the aftermath of doing virtually <em>nothing</em> too.</p><p> </p><p>A tiny voice whispers at the back of his mind that he already knew this was coming and he sighs. Pride himself all he wants about being a good survivor, about managing to live off on his own and working his way up to over powered items, but he’s been taking care of himself less in the past few weeks, has lost the people who cared enough to yell at him when he does so for much longer. He’s not who he used to be.</p><p> </p><p>He’s gotten too used to chugging strength pots and regens on days he pushed his body to its limits. Thrown all the care and logic he had regarding how these actions would affect him in the long run, all just to distract himself from his numerous thoughts. Many were the days where he needed to take out his anger on something, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to grab his netherite axe on a random night and just slaughter every monster he sees near the vicinity.</p><p> </p><p>The breaking point of all that recklessness was the day he got ambushed, a large display of all his faults and mistakes, all the anger and sorrow he’d inflicted on everyone manifesting themselves in the form of steely, determined faces with sharp weapons and gleaming, enchanted netherite armor.</p><p> </p><p>There’s nothing quite like having to face off thirty people at once- people who you, a long time ago, considered friends-, nothing quite like seeing such friends work together to ensure your demise. Some days Dream still wonders what the knot in chest had been, when he saw them all, wonders if its surprise or pride, and on rare days, where he’s less afraid to be honest with himself, wonders if its hurt.</p><p> </p><p>A wave of pain causes him to wince from where he was lying down on bed, reaching a hand to clutch at the hair on his scalp, tempted to pull and scratch as if more pain would relieve the pounding headache that felt like a hammer bashing his skull wide open.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be so dramatic.” Someone chastises, and Dream blinks as he spots a white blob appear in his line of vision. The smile on its face is ever unchanging, but something about it feels icier today, crueler and unsympathetic. “It’s just a cold, toughen it out.”</p><p> </p><p>"Easier said than done." Dream rasps, his throat was not a fan of him talking, if the violent coughs that follow afterwards were any sign. He doesn’t try to do it anymore after that, mental messages were less effort anyways. <em>And fuck off.</em></p><p> </p><p>The blob moves its head similar to when someone rolls their eyes. “Real mature.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Says the idiot that won’t stop whining if I don’t do what it wants. Why can’t you just be quiet for once? Silence suits you, like genuinely.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“You’d probably bore to death if I did. I can feel all your brain cells melting each second that passes when you’re not doing anything.” Its small body moves away, and Dream watches as it hops on the obsidian flooring until finally onto the lectern, face crowding in shadow when it turns back to look at him. “I’d be doing you a favor, wringing out the time it takes before you officially go mad in this hell hole.”</p><p> </p><p><em>I probably already am. </em>Dream thinks, eye twitching in annoyance. <em>Considering I still talk with you, I don’t know why I still bother.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“You’d be buried six feet underground without me.” Its voice is monotone, cool.</p><p> </p><p>Dream lets out an unimpressed snort. <em>Keep telling yourself that.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Something shifts in the air then, the temperature dropping to a considerable amount that a chill goes down Dream’s spine. There’s a kind of uneasiness in the room that he hasn’t felt in a while, similar to venturing into dark caves for the first time, of living in a hardcore world, of the knowledge that your about to lose your life.</p><p> </p><p>A broken smile. Freezing him on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>“<strong>Y̵̖̌o̷͙̔u̷̬̽ å̶̢̛̖̻̮̈́͆ŕ̶̙̞̚̚͜͠e̷̡̤̭̭̫̰͈̊͗̏ </strong><em><strong>n̴̢̡̞̯̲̩͇̙̮̘̱̺͚̙̐̀́̓̽̓̎̈͊͋̐͘͜͠ơ̴̜̈̍͛̊̈́͌͗̿̅̌̃̂̾̈́̂̈́͌̚̚͘͝͝t̴͈͖̘̫̼̜̙͎̥̪̠̣̪̞͙̓́͊̐̃͊̓̆̍̇̚͠͝h̸͇̙̰̖̗̫͓̤̙̏͛̅̅̾̉̎̑̄̍̀̿͠į̶̧̨͎̯̖̞͕̺̲̫͔̬̝̥̱̯̹̣̥̲̳̠̺̺̅́̔̈̈́̐͋̾̓̅̆̔͌̂̀̓̀̚n̴̡̩̯̮̞͈͍̜̜̈́̆̈́̒g̸̱̜͔̭̗̜͎̠̥̓͋͠ͅ</strong>̨͔̼͉͔̝̲̙̣̦̜.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The voice in his head is garbled, nonsense and static mixing with something Dream wouldn’t even say is a <em>voice</em> anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“<em><strong>W̷̡̛̤̖̞̪͓̯̦͚̫̦̞̮͓̳̟͊͒̃͐̌̑̒̏̈͗͒͒͜ͅį̵̨̝̼͙̞̝̪͔̱̤̣̜̣̹̼̖̖͎͍̭̹̙̻͕̞̪͒͌͑̀͒̽͋͆́̈̀t̶͕̮̿̌̾͑̒̂͂́̎̈́͂̄̓͒̈́̎͌̆̽̓̈́̾̀͆̒͘h̷̛̫̑̌̓̏͐̇̈́͑̂̆̐̊̍̒̎̔̆̊̕o̸̢̧͖͎̞̯͎̹͈̼͕̗̩̖̘͈̻̤̯̣̻͖͈̎͊̉̊̿̍̌͛̍̊̔̆͝͠ų̸̧̙͎̱̫̪̱̬͚̞͖̪̮̯͍̳̪̮̞̘̈́̍̎͂͆͆̈́͘̕͜͠ͅṯ̷̨̛̛͈̥̮͚̟̤̖͉̩̙̲͍̰̘͓̳̩̜̱̯͚̬̈̈̊̈́̓͗̾̅̇̈́̋̎͜͝ ̷̨̢̛̛̰͔̖̫̼̠̗̳̻̮̮̰̗̤̦̲͔̈́̓̊̓̂̍̀̿̃̐̔̚̚͝m̸̛̤̭͕͒̓̔͛̈́͐̾͑͒̈́̑͌͐̊͛̾̿̆͘͝ȩ̷̢̡͓̰̥͙̻̹̟͇̬̹̥̠͇͓̎̔̎̽͂̍̈́͋̚͘͜</strong>̨̨̗̫͍̣</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Harsh ringing overrides any other sounds in the room, and Dream presses the palms of his hands to his ears, eyelids shut tight as the pounding in his head increases, unable to even get a sense of himself as his fingers begin clenching at the flesh surrounding his ears.</p><p> </p><p>The reminder shocks him like a splash of cold water, that whatever this <em>thing</em> that’s stuck in this cell, that’s stuck with <em>him</em> in general, is something more than the joke he makes it out to be, something more than another one of the problems he brushes off like a speck of dust on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Something that he can’t quite run away from anymore.</p><p> </p><p>When the screeching continues like nails scratching on chalkboard, a god-awful sound that felt like it’d make his ears bleed, he’s half-tempted to tear them off with how <em>loud</em> everything was, tempted to crash his cranium onto the headboard just to sleep on whatever the fuck was happening.</p><p> </p><p>And wouldn’t it be so easy? To just end it all in one fell swoop? To forget it all happened? Dream wonders why he hadn’t thought about it, why he hasn’t tried. He should- he should do that, honestly. He’s so goddamn <em>tired </em>all the time now, and, wouldn’t it be for the best? Wouldn’t <em>they all</em> like that? What was even <em>keeping</em> him here? Why is he still even clinging to this vain idea of living? Why? <em>Why-</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Breathe.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>That’s… new. He thinks, knuckles white from gripping too tightly. It’s another voice. Deeper, more grounded. Calming. Human.</p><p> </p><p>“Dream I-” <em>Very human.</em> “Jesus Christ. Come on, just- just take deep breaths.”</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t even noticed how erratic his breathing had gone, how shaky his chest moved with every heave and how dizzy he felt, the lack of air making him light-headed.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. That’s um, that’s good, uh- <em>fuck</em> I don’t know what I-” they cut off abruptly, seemingly psyching themselves up before continuing. “I’m going to count, okay? Try to breath in time with it, breathe in one to five, breathe out six to ten- do you understand?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream doesn’t know how but he manages a nod.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, okay.” They start counting, and it works for a bit, but when they say three for the fourth time Dream can’t help but suck in a startled breath out of order, desperately trying to gain control again through harsh trembling. It slips through his fingers like sand and frustration bubbles at the back of his throat. Why can’t he do this <em>one</em> thing? Why can’t he just <em>breathe like a normal fucking person? Why can’t he just do </em><strong><em>anything</em></strong><em> right-</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Hey, hey.” They murmur, and there’s something hovering over Dream’s arm, not quite touching, but it’s there and it’s solid and it’s <em>real</em> and he tries so hard to cling to that fact. “Don’t get caught in your head, okay? Just do it again, I’ll count to four this time, three if it’s easier, come on, you can do this.”</p><p> </p><p>Swallowing the bile in his throat and ignoring the wetness behind his eyes, Dream gives a jerky nod again, and as the numbers get uttered to the air, he steadies his breaths, focusing on the sound of the other person’s voice and letting it drown out the white noise inside his head. Slowly and eventually, it becomes more bearable, less feeling-like-your-skull-was-getting-bashed-in-by-a-hammer, and slowly, slowly, Dream’s breathing turns more stable.</p><p> </p><p>He retracts his shaky hands from where they were pressing on his ears- he’d be surprised he even heard the other person if he didn’t feel so exhausted, his headache numbing into something more tolerable but no less irritating. The young man’s about to shift the mask on his face before his hands grasp at air.</p><p> </p><p>Oh. Oh <em>fuck-</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Calm your shit dude.” Cold porcelain slams (well, not <em>slam</em>, thankfully, it was more like a gentle shove) on Dream’s face, and he scrambles to fix the strap onto his head. The other pers- oh who was he kidding, now that his head’s a bit clearer he knows it was Punz who walked in on him having some kind of dumb panic attack.</p><p> </p><p>Making sure that the mask is secure around his head, Dream releases a sigh and croaks, weakly. “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz makes a face. “You sound like crap.”</p><p> </p><p> “Feel like it too.”</p><p> </p><p>Snickers leave Punz’s lips despite the crease in his brow. “Why was your mask even on your lectern? I thought you’ve been lying in bed all night.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream doesn’t answer, briefly shrugging his shoulders uselessly before he catches a whiff of rabbit. Moving his head a tiny bit to glimpse a wooden bowl on Punz’s right hand, he groans at the thought of swallowing anything into his system.</p><p> </p><p>“Now don’t make that face.” Punz says, not unlike days so long ago now, when their biggest worry was whether they were going to get enough food for everyone that night. “It might taste like ass but it’s better than rotting away because you have an empty stomach.”</p><p> </p><p>The younger closes his eyes and breathes, linking slightly unsteady fingers with each other. “Does it make any difference?” he asks, whispers as if only saying the thought to himself. “Does it even matter?”</p><p> </p><p>He feels rather than sees the way Punz stills from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, and something in his head startles at the words he just said out loud, realizes the kind of weight that they held. <em>What the fuck is wrong with you.</em> The voice- the <em>blob-</em> hisses.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh,” Dream grumbles under his breath, he is <em>not</em> going to feeling regret or, ender have mercy, <em>guilt</em>, over some food that’s claimed to taste like <em>ass</em>. “Where’s your stupid stew.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting up from his position, he swivels over so that his legs were dangling off the bed, and he gives a pointed look towards Punz's direction, ignoring the way black spots his vision due to the sudden change of orientation. “Well?”</p><p> </p><p>Blue eyes stare back at him, and there’s not a frown on Punz’s lips, not really, but there sure is something there that’s making Dream’s gut twist and turn in ways unrelated to his shitty cold. He wants to wipe that expression off his face, whatever it is, it makes him uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>Before he can blithely ask for Punz to cut it out, the guy suddenly scoops up a bit of the broth with a spoon and positions it towards Dream’s mouth. “Say ‘ah’.”</p><p> </p><p>The masked man turns rigid. “What are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>Punz ignores the ire of his words, having the gall to look affronted himself. “What does it look like I’m doing, dumbass?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream hasn’t so much as given anyone the stink eye since he’s been sent to prison, and neither does he have the energy to, but Punz is pretty close to breaking that right now. “Do I look like some baby who needs to be spoon fed? Don’t mock me, Punz, just give me the stupid bowl.”</p><p> </p><p>The blonde doesn’t bat an eye when Dream’s hackles raise in time with his words, instead wrinkling his nose as he glares right back at green before holding out the bowl of soup for him to hold. When the younger accepts it a little too aggressively, a bit of the broth spills onto the floor and he curses under his breath.</p><p> </p><p>Punz watches on unimpressed when he slightly lifts the mask on his face to eat properly, and as Dream tries to give himself a mouthful of soup that’d probably taste like sandpaper on his tongue, it’s apparent that it’s a lost cause when his shaky hands just keep spilling the food back into the bowl again.</p><p> </p><p>Dream ignores the way his ears burn when he fails to put mushed carrots in his mouth after three tries, Punz snorts at the fifth.</p><p> </p><p>Wallowing in his own self-contempt, Dream grits out between clenched teeth. “Aren’t you going to <em>leave?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you going to <em>eat?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Snuffing out the need to strangle the man in front of him with his bare hands, Dream releases the longest, most exasperated breath from his lungs before begrudgingly handing the items to Punz, only a little sorry that some of the stew splashes onto the latter’s pants.</p><p> </p><p>“You can be a little more grateful.” Punz mutters, but goes to feeding him anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Their god-awful routine continues on for an agonizing seven minutes (don’t ask why he counted) before Dream pushes the spoon away from his face, putting his mask back in its original position. Punz, in Dream’s confusion and irritation, is decidedly not happy with that.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Dream, you’ve barely gone through half of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to anymore, I’m already full.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a big boy, you can handle it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep up that attitude and I’ll be asking for a bucket <em>and</em> a mop in the next ten seconds.”</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit fine, I take it back. I don’t want to deal with your gross puke again.”</p><p> </p><p>And with Dream being Dream, he chuckles, laughs at the ridiculousness of it the situation, a tyrant threatening someone with their vomit is something you don’t see every day after all, but soon enough laughter turns to coughing and coughing turns to hacks and gasp. There’s a hand on his back that he would’ve wanted to shake off, but he’s apparently too busy busting his lungs out to even notice it’s there in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>By then it feels like thorns are poking the inside of his throat, fire coursing through his veins and making the roof of his mouth irritated, he’d cry if he didn’t already feel so wretched, shame making his body redder than the fever itself. <em>Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.</em> His thoughts jeer, Dream can’t find it in himself to disagree.</p><p> </p><p>When he finally stops, something cold presses to his lips, and he draws back before noticing it was just a cup of water, offered by a casual (for the most part) Punz, the only thing showcasing his worry was the way he was biting the inside of his cheek, a habit that, between the two of them, only Dream knew about.</p><p> </p><p>They stay quiet when the prisoner gratefully drinks the water, a tiny moment of respite to his inflamed throat. After gulping it all, he falls back down on his bed, not even hiding how eager he was to just pass out, too exhausted to keep up appearances.</p><p> </p><p>He takes in a few breaths before moving his hands in old, familiar gestures; learning sign language was primarily for Callahan, but thankfully, it tended to be useful for other things. “Thanks. You can leave me to wallow in pity in my lonesome now.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz huffs. “Don’t be a drama queen. Besides I wanted to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Dream gives him the most nonplussed look he can muster behind the mask. “Have you heard my throat? Do you want it to <em>bleed?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not asking <em>you</em> to talk.” Punz replies, far too patient with his bull than Dream was used to. “You don’t even have to sign, I know you wouldn’t even want to bother anyway, you told me so last night.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s an undercurrent of bitterness to his words, sinking into his sentence in a way that probably wasn’t intentional. Dream heard it though, and he genuinely doesn’t even know how to respond with anything except silence.</p><p> </p><p>Punz seems to presume it, anyway, a heavy sort of accepted disappointment on his frown, and Dream tries to tell himself that he doesn’t care. “Listening is fine too.” He pauses for a second, mulling over thoughts in his head that weeks back Dream would’ve had no problem figuring out.</p><p> </p><p>But in this obsidian cell where he’s lost sense and track of time, where his daily schedule consisted of sleeping and eating and staring at blank books and thinking about life beyond the black walls, his guess for it was as good as nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Punz was supposed to be the mercenary, the one who sided with those that gave him quick bucks, loyal to money and money only, not- whatever this is- not the client who didn’t pay enough, not the friend who’d only asked for him when there’s a job to do, and certainly not the brother who’d once ask him on how his day was doing, ask him to spar and ride horses and tease each other under the sun.</p><p> </p><p>No. Dream thinks, those days were over, crushed under the heel of his boot and turned to dust, never to be seen again, never to be remembered again. It was only inevitable. Attachments meant weaknesses, and he lost that with Punz the moment he handed him those blocks of gold and diamond, a flimsy excuse connecting them together. A fake ‘bond’.</p><p> </p><p>“You worry me a lot, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Dream stiffens. <em>What?</em></p><p> </p><p>“You’re probably thinking why, since I betrayed you and all, and to be clear, I don’t regret doing that, at all.” The blonde clasps his hands, rubbing his thumbs over each other in thought. “With that brain and all, you probably already expected that in the first place, whether or not Tommy gave me a bunch of netherite to win me over on his side. You’re smart and frankly terrifying in that sense.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Then why are you </em>here<em>?</em> Dream wants to ask, mouth feeling like it was too full of cotton to really say the words out loud, a reason hidden behind the excuse of sore throats and painful coughs. <em>If you knew I played you like a fiddle, why even bother with me? Why do you </em>care? <em>I don’t understand.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Punz, of course, doesn’t answer the question he couldn’t hear. “That was probably your downfall too,” he says. “You think, ‘I’m one step ahead of everyone, this is all according to plan, and I’ll be in the winning side in the end.’ And then it does go to plan, and then maybe it doesn’t and then you're here, and then you realize. ‘Oh shit. I can’t handle this.’”</p><p> </p><p>Dream intervenes then, making an effort to cross shaky fingers. “You overestimate me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” Punz shrugs, a slight smile on his face. “Maybe you're just telling me that so that I’d be less suspicious, maybe you’re telling the truth, the fact of the matter is, I can’t really tell anymore, and I think neither do you.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know why you’ve done the things you did, and I don’t have a right to say that you were bad then, since I willingly sided with you for the cash, but that’s the thing.” He splays his arms out, gesturing to nothing and everything. “It feels like a cop-out, an excuse on a silver platter, all for me, how convenient that Tommy thought to leave me with something to make me side with them, how convenient that he grew enough to think of doing it in the first place, how <em>convenient.” </em>His eyes narrow. “That the only person who knew about your whereabouts, other than Tommy and Tubbo, was swayed before the last second.”</p><p> </p><p>Punz looks at him then, eyes a little sad, a little lost. “Why did you-”</p><p> </p><p>“You weren’t supposed to betray me.” Dream rasps, forcing his voice to work, otherwise he’s not quite sure he can handle having to face the next words that would leave Punz’s mouth. “I was going to hold Tubbo over him, <em>Tommy</em> was supposed to be the one who was going to rot in prison, <em>not me.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t understand.” Punz whispers, echoes his own thoughts, and something in Dream breaks a little bit more.</p><p> </p><p><em>No one ever does. </em>“I don’t expect you to.”</p><p> </p><p>It's the way Punz's gaze hardens, that Dream knows the conversation is already over. "I would if you actually ever gave a shit about us, about <em>me, </em>but you were so obsessed with those dumb discs that you forgot what you were even fighting for anymore. Why won't you just <em>talk </em>to us, Dream?"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Because talking got me nowhere. Talking got my words twisted into sentences I never said out loud, things that effortlessly swayed everyone into thinking I didn't care, and I did, once, but I'm not doing it again. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Dream takes a deep, calming breath. "Don't lie to yourself." He mutters, voice stony with a hint of malice. "There's no reason to <em>talk </em>when you'd never understand in the first place. Get that through your thick skull and maybe then you'd get some answers."</p><p> </p><p>Punz doesn't yell, doesn't snap, doesn't argue. Instead he watches him, eyes crinkled with an emotion Dream can't name, before he nods once, shifting as he moves to leave.</p><p> </p><p>"Okay." He says calmly, and somehow, that's so much worse.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A good portion of this isn't beta read so I'll probably be editing this tomorrow for a bit. Thank u so much for 600+ kudos, I'm glad my brain vomit can make sense to u guys, and that u can enjoy the lightheartedness of this fic compared to the other heavier themes set in others. </p><p>That said, I wanna try and answer comments this time since I feel a bit bad for leaving you all hanging, as it stands, I think this chapter is a little bit on the 'eh' side, I don't really like how it turned out nor do I /really/ hate it but it's here now, so!! Gimme ur thoughts :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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